


wolf in sheep's clothing

by Catsby



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Animal Instincts, Blood and Violence, Crushes, Deception, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Hybrids, M/M, Mafia AU, Minor Character Death, Murder, Panic Attacks, Predator/Prey, Stalking, lamb Taeyong, wolf Johnny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-06-25 22:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19755298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsby/pseuds/Catsby
Summary: Taeyong, a delicate and pretty little lamb, son of the head of the ram family, and Johnny, the dangerous wolf hired to kill him.Somehow, against all odds, love blooms between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what Taeyong has been warned about his whole life. 
> 
> The big bad wolf. The monster with a gaping maw and gnarled teeth that thirsts for blood and aches to sink its fangs into the delicate flesh of a pretty little lamb. This is what the universe has been planning for him. Destined to be gobbled up by a wolf in some filthy, godforsaken alley.
> 
> This is the day Taeyong defies his destiny.

This is what Taeyong has been warned about his whole life. 

The big bad wolf. The monster with a gaping maw and gnarled teeth that thirsts for blood and aches to sink its fangs into the delicate flesh of a pretty little lamb.

It stands before him now in a grand, looming shadow, features indistinguishable save for the gleam in those honey golden eyes, a look coloring those captivating orbs that betrays all its awful desires. It’s terrifying, chilling in the most primal way. Taeyong’s body feels like it’s rejecting the creature’s mere presence, as he’s wracked with fearful trembles while all the hairs on the back of his neck stands up.

In this moment, he wants nothing more than to run, to sprint out of this narrow space he’s cornered in and flee as far as his shaking legs will take him. But the second he tries, he finds his fingers barely able to even twitch at his sides. He feels frozen in place, as if a thick layer of ice has caked his muscles, leaving him powerless to defend himself against the beast gradually creeping closer.

He has to watch his own demise as it approaches, one thudding step at a time, curved claws tapping on the pavement. His own personal Death, leering at him, plotting all the ways it’s going to steal away his young, ripe life.

He’s really and truly helpless, weak and pitiful. A poor little sheep, a pathetic prey whose fate is here. This is what the universe has been planning for him, this is his end that has been long written in the Book of Life.

Destined to be gobbled up by a wolf in some filthy, godforsaken alley.

Though he knows it’s destiny, though he’s aware that this is where he’s meant to be, it's horrifying nonetheless. A waking nightmare. A terror only the darkest depths of his mind could conjure up, but instead, it stands here before him, very real, created instead by whichever invisible force hates him so. He can even feel its hot breath on his face as it exhales, mere inches away now.

He wishes this were just a nightmare. Just a scary, scary dream he could wake from unscathed. He wants it so bad, he prays for it. As the beast's open mouth nears his head, he screws his eyes shut and prays to the same invisible force who placed him in this situation or whoever will listen. He wishes on every star, and he hopes and hopes and hopes that this isn't real.

And right as the beast's jaw snaps shut on his head, he opens his eyes, and suddenly he's in bed. 

His body feels not his own as he slowly sits up in bed, overwhelmed and disoriented in the only way a vivid dream can cause, head spinning and mind not registering what he's seeing around him. There's a noise blaring that he vaguely realizes is his alarm clock, but the sound is distorted and far off, like he’s hearing it through water or balls of cotton stuffed in his ears.

He stretches one hand over, still shaky either from his nightmare or just waking up, and thumps at the top of the clock on the nightstand until it finally shuts up. Once quiet has settled over him once more, he allows himself to fall back into the comfort of his sheets, head landing on the plush pillow against the headboard, and he heaves a sigh.

He feels it as he gradually fades into the real world, the sensation of his mind coming to like popping through a bubble. The tingling in his fingers dissipates until all he can feel are the sheets beneath his hands, and he rubs at them appreciatively, his eyes never leaving the ceiling over his head.

What an awful dream, he thinks. By now, he can only recall parts of it, but the feeling has stuck with him, as if ingrained into his cells, etched in painfully by a cruel pick. His hair and fur still stands up as he remembers those eyes, so eerily striking against the black shadow. He feels on edge even as he just lies there, so it’s no surprise that he physically jumps and gasps when the door swings open so suddenly and so fast that it bangs against his wall, cracking through the silence of his room with a deafening thud.

He bolts upright and looks at the figure in the doorway, all the muscles in his body tensed as his mind races through his fight-or-flight options, but then all that melts away as he recognizes the drowsy face staring back at him.

“Come on, Yong, breakfast,” Jaehyun mumbles to him, words barely understandable around his mouthful of toothpaste. The golden-horned ram is still dressed in his baby blue, cloud print pajamas, pink hair held back out of his bare face by a thick headband, foamy toothbrush in one hand and schoolbag in the other. He blinks slow and lazy at the other sheep, the innocently drowsy, glazed-over look in his eyes making it impossible for Taeyong to get even slightly frustrated with him.

“Right,” is all Taeyong says in reply before pushing the covers back and hauling himself out of bed. Jaehyun leaves him to get ready for the day, closing the door on his way, and Taeyong is thankful for the privacy as he goes about changing.

Typically, he would dress rather stylish, but as he stares at himself in the full-body mirror mounted on the closet door, his mind fails him, much too preoccupied with replaying what bits and pieces of that awful dream it remembers. He frowns to himself the whole time as he just throws on a simple t-shirt, hoodie, and jeans before slinging his bag on and leaving his room.

His socked feet thump lightly on the smooth wooden floor of the long hallway as he makes his way to the kitchen, walking as if in a trance, his mind captured by the dark thoughts and curiosity swirling inside. Typically, he might stop on his way to step out into the courtyard, take a breath of fresh morning air tinted with sweet dew and soaked in the warm yellow light of the rising sun. But today, that just doesn’t appeal to him.

Thankfully, breakfast is easy, as it always is. This is always the most calm, quiet, and simple part of his day, punctuated with mouth-watering food cooked by his mother and her right-hand maid. He moves on routine and follows the tantalizing smell into the dining room, still feeling numb and distracted even as he takes a seat at the round, wooden table, finding a plate already piled with food and waiting for him, no doubt prepared by his mother.

He sits across from his father, who looks two sizes too big for the chair he’s seated on. They eat in silence while his mother, who looks two sizes too tiny for everything around her, cooks more food and washes dishes in the neighboring room. The sounds carry through the open doorways and silence, mingling with the soft clinks of his and his father’s chopsticks and silverware on their plates. 

It’s normally not an uncomfortable quiet, more just one of mutual understanding that “I just woke up and don’t really want to talk.” But today is the first time Taeyong catches discomfort in the air. His own unease must be clear, because once he picks up on the shift in the atmosphere, he even catches his father stealing worried glances at him.

Their eyes meet once, and Taeyong forces himself to give the slightest smile, hoping to ease his father’s concern at least a little. Rather, what he gets in return is another worried look. Thankfully, the large ram has never been the type to push a conversation, so Taeyong can just breathe a little sigh through his nose and continue with breakfast.

Once he’s about halfway done eating, Jaehyun comes rushing through and tells everyone goodbye with a big smile brighter than the rising sun, grabbing a piece of buttered toast for the road. Since Taeyong always sits closest to the door, he’s always the one to receive a kiss from the Golden Boy himself, a peck on his cheek that would usually make him giggle and grin.

Today, though, he just presses his lips together and hums in response.

It’s odd and completely out of the character, he knows, and so does everyone else. Jaehyun even pauses for a moment to look at him oddly and then exchanges a brief glance with their father and then their mother, who’s now standing in the doorway with a dishrag in her hands, before hurrying on his way. Taeyong feels a bit relieved that his brother has to rush off in order to make it to his class on time, because he knows that if he didn’t, he’d press and question him about his weird reaction.

Unfortunately, that leaves Taeyong alone with their parents. While his dad isn’t the type to press and question, his mom on the other hand --

As soon as she looks his way, drying her delicate hands on the rag, Taeyong shoves the last forkful of food into his mouth, a bite much too big, and mumbles about going to get ready for his own class. He nearly chokes as he rushes down the hallway to the bathroom, struggling to even chew the food in his mouth as he goes, but he manages.

Right as he closes the bathroom door behind himself, he gulps the bite down and immediately rushes to the sink and throws the faucet on. He doesn’t even care that the water comes out ice cold, he catches it in his cupped palms and slurps it down, chasing the food that felt like a lump inching its way down his throat.

He breathes a sigh of relief once he’s satisfied and then splashes his face with some water while he’s bent over and his hands are wet. It feels good, refreshing, so he does it again. Somehow, it’s calming despite the nippy temperature, clearing his mind but still not ridding him of the vision of those gold eyes.

It’s annoying, the image clinging to the back of his eyelids like a thirsty tick. He can’t tear it away, he just has to wait for it to leave on its own, but until then, it drains him. He’s only been awake for about 20 minutes at this point, but he already feels so exhausted, and it’s all because of that damn dream. At this point, he assumes it safe to say that it _haunts_ him.

He lifts his head to meet his own gaze in the mirror, and he breathes a defeated sigh. 

Of course this had to happen on a monday morning, as if these days weren’t already tiring enough. He decides while fixing his hair that the universe truly does hate him, not only in his dreams but in real life as well, as just a few seconds into attempting to tame his rampaging bedhead, his straightener just dies. It just quits in his hand, and he drops it to the counter, stares down at it for a solid ten seconds, and then scoffs in disbelief.

“Hat it is then,” he grumbles.

When he heads back to his room, he grabs his silver round-framed glasses and his favorite beanie, quickly putting both on. His vision is immediately ten times better, but now his hearing is muffled just slightly by the fabric squishing his floppy lamb ears into his hair. The beanie also puts the slightest pressure on his ever-sensitive nubs of horns that have only recently begun to sprout on his forehead, and the feeling is just annoying enough that he considers risking it all and abandoning the beanie, exposing his bedhead for all the world to see.

But then he thinks about that cute boy in his chemistry class, and he decides this is certainly the best route. Beauty is pain, after all, though he wouldn’t consider himself particularly beautiful today, not with those bags so prominent under his eyes or those pathetic bumps he calls horns tucked under his hat.

He heaves a deep sigh, concluding that this morning really is awful. As if he didn’t already have enough to worry about with that dream, now his streak of self-doubt has begun to settle in, carving out a trench in his mind where it’ll likely remain all day long. His urge to crawl back into bed and hide from all the scary things in the world is suddenly doubled.

As he walks down the hall and through the spacious living room to the front door, he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, but he only catches the action when his mother scolds him lightly from where she stands in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, “You’ll make your lip bleed, Yong.”

Pausing halfway to the front door, he lifts his head to look at the small ewe and blinks a few times before offering a brief, tight-lipped smile. “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to _me,_ ” she hums, tattooed arms crossed over her pastel pink apron. Her dark eyes are unreadable as she looks her son up and down, a mysterious gleam in them that Taeyong has gotten used to over the years. As always, her aura is intimidating, twice as big as her petite frame, and Taeyong finds himself shying down under her gaze.

He’s early enough that he’s not going to be late for class, he’s not even at risk of being late, but he still makes up a quick excuse of it, stammering out, “I-I have to go now, mom, my class starts soon.”

She knows better than that, of course. Her gaze sharpens, her eyes squinting suspiciously, and for a second, Taeyong is sure he’s about to get chewed out.

But when she closes the gap between them, rather than pinching his ear and growling at him about this or that, she wraps her slim arms around his waist and nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck. Her short, sleek horns rub his jawline as she coos softly, “Have a good day, Yongie.”

The warm embrace and subtly encouraging words are enough to make Taeyong smile his first genuine smile of the day, and he returns the hug, briefly nuzzling his face into her fluffy white hair. “I will, mom.”

The tender moment lasts just a few more sweet seconds, and then the small woman leans back to look up at him with a big grin on her face that looks like a mirror image of the one Jaehyun wore earlier. “Go get ‘em, little guy!” she snickers, landing a firm but motivating smack to Taeyong’s hip.

He winces at the sting but huffs a laugh and bows his head to her, giving her a chance to playfully rub the top of his beanie as he repeats with a smile, “I will, mom.”

With that, he turns to head out for the day. He slides the door open and steps down the stairs from the toenmaru to enter the wide open courtyard, pausing for just a moment to slip his shoes on from where they sit beside his parents’. He’s halfway across the yard when his mother calls out after him.

“Oh, and let the boys in at the gate, okay?”

“I will!” he calls back over his shoulder, looking back to see her smiling at him from the open doorway. He returns her happy expression with one more smile of his own before going on.

The sun is just beginning to peek over the wall around their yard, casting a warm glow over the span of grass and lively trees and flowers that his mother baby so much. An amber-gold flower in one of the large terracotta pots catches his eye, and for just a brief second, his mind flashes back to the imagery of his dream. It makes him hesitate, his heart stuttering in his ribcage for that short pause in time, but then he feels the sunlight kissing his skin and is reminded of his mother’s comfort.

And suddenly, everything feels okay.

He breathes a soft, relaxed sigh and continues on his short journey, following the path made of spaced-out stones until he reaches the large, heavy doors of the wall around their home. Already, he can hear the voices of two people bickering approaching from the other side, and he pushes the door open right as they walk up.

“Oh,” Seokmin gasps, startled out of his certainly very important conversation with the deer beside him. He quickly drops into a deep bow, a gesture Taeyong always considers too much for someone such as himself, but no matter how much he tells Seokmin to stop, he keeps at it, doing it every time they meet. At this point, Taeyong has given up arguing. “Good morning, boss!”

Taeyong doesn’t fail to catch the unimpressed side-eye look Seungkwan flashes his companion before bowing his head in Taeyong’s direction as well. The platinum blond man smiles sweetly at him, a sharp contrast compared to how he was just regarding Seokmin. “Need us to walk you to class?”

“Oh, no,” Taeyong replies quickly with a polite shake of his head. “No, I think I’ll be okay. Plus, my mom was asking for you both, she probably has some jobs for you two.”

At that, Seungkwan absolutely lights up, lips parting in an excited gasp and eyes twinkling. “Oh, fun! Come on, let’s go!” he chirps and lands a particularly hard slap to Seokmin’s arm before hurrying past Taeyong.

The taller deer buck yelps at the smack and rubs his bicep gingerly before flashing Taeyong one of those movie star smiles and bowing once more, thankfully more casually this time in his rush. “Have a nice day, boss!” he says before hurrying along after speedy Seungkwan across the courtyard.

Taeyong turns to watch them go and snickers when Seokmin’s pretty antlers nearly snag on some low-hanging branches of the tree closest to the path, a daily occurence that never fails to make him crack up. As he steps out of the yard and closes the door behind himself, he can already hear Seungkwan and his mother talking loudly and excitedly to each other, probably fawning over the latest episode of their favorite tv show.

He just smiles to himself and heads on his way down the sidewalk in the direction of the train station. As he walks to the station and steps onto his train when it arrives, his heart holds a certain sense of hope for the day that it didn't have a mere ten minutes ago. It’s a nice, refreshing feeling, so delightful in a certain way that he even finds himself smiling at nothing while riding the train.

He even ditches his beanie halfway through the ride, stuffing it carelessly into his backpack. He shakes his head a few times to fluff his hair out, his white lamb ears flopping about, and smiles even wider at the sense of freedom he feels in that moment.

So what if he has bedhead? So what if his horns are tiny?

 _Despite all that,_ he thinks to himself, _everything is going to be okay._

And for a while, it is. He makes it through the better part of his day really well, a smile ever-present on his face and a happy little hop in his step. He practically prances as he makes his way around campus, walking from class to class.

At lunch, Doyoung of course takes notice of his cheerfulness and decides to tease him, looking at him through his pretty eyelashes while sipping his tea. “You get laid or something?” he hums while setting the white cup back down on the table, delicate fingers curled around the handle.

Taeyong sputters around his own sip of tea and nearly chokes as he sets his cup back down, covering his mouth with his hand as he coughs. “W-What?” he wheezes, looking at his friend across the table with a bewildered expression. “Where did _that_ come from?”

“I just figured something good must’ve happened since your whole--” he makes a vague gesture to the space around Taeyong, scrunching his nose up like the cute little bunny he is, “--energy is so annoyingly peppy.”

Once he’s recovered from his choking fit, Taeyong scoffs at that and rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at his lips. “What, does something good have to happen for me to be happy? Can’t I just be in a good mood?”

“Well, I mean, you were talking an awful lot about that guy from chemistry last week,” he says nonchalantly, and a smirk forms on his lips when he notices how his dear friend’s cheeks flush at the mere mention of his current crush. “What was his name again? Jongin-”

The name barely makes it out of his mouth before breaking into a pained yelp as Taeyong lands one merciless kick to his shin under the table. It’s definitely hard enough to bruise, his legs and abilities strengthened by years of taekwondo, but all is fair in love and war.

When Doyoung glares at him while reaching down to gingerly rub his injured leg under the table, Taeyong just flashes him a sweet, angelic smile in return.

“You bitch,” the rabbit grumbles. Once he’s done fruitlessly nursing his leg, he leans back in his seat with a long sigh, picking up his tea to take another sip. He glances at Taeyong over the rim of his cup and murmurs against the porcelain, “You’re mean, you know that?”

“Am I?” Taeyong practically purrs back, earning an indigent huff from his best friend.

“ _Yes,_ you are,” the darker-haired boy insists. “You know, all I was going to say was if you haven’t gotten fucked by Jo--” he cuts himself off when Taeyong raises his eyebrows at him challengingly, pressing his lips together in a tight line before going on slowly, “--by _that guy_ yet, then maybe you should invite him to come with you to the game this saturday.”

“I don’t really want to have sex at a soccer game...”

“Oh, you simple, naive, virgin freshman,” Doyoung sighs, setting his cup back down on the table with a soft tap. Taeyong considers kicking him again, or at least pointing out that they’re _both_ freshmen, but before he can act on either thought, Doyoung sticks his nose up and goes on, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “There’s a party at the team captain’s frat house after every game. That’s where all the good stuff happens.”

“All the good stuff, huh?” Taeyong echos, doubt clear in his tone.

“That’s what I said,” Doyoung confirms and goes on to list all that happened at the last post-game party he went to. A lot of it sounds like too much for Taeyong, things like guys getting drunk and falling off the roof, or three guys and two girls having an “oddly mesmerizing fivesome” in the living room.

Taeyong’s not really the partying type. He’d much rather stay home and play Animal Crossing all night, maybe read a book, maybe cuddle up on the couch with Jaehyun and his favorite plushie and watch a movie. The idea of being around drugs and booze and, even worse, college students doing drugs and drinking booze -- it just doesn’t appeal to him.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Doyoung says sharply, snapping him out of his trail of thinking.

He blinks a few times before meeting his friend’s eyes, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Yeah? What am I thinking then?”

Doyoung answers without a beat of hesitation, “You’d rather stay home and play Animal Crossing than be around a bunch of drunk, drugged up frat boys and soccer groupies.”

Taeyong doesn’t even try to argue, caught red-handed. This is a downside to being childhood friends -- Doyoung can read him like a damn book. Sometimes he’s so good at it that Taeyong ends up wondering if his friend really does have some kind of fantastic mind-reading powers.

Clearly able to see he hit the nail on the head with his guess, Doyoung gives a smug smirk, but rather than continuing to tease and prod, his expression softens and he says, “But still, these parties are a lot of fun, Yong. I think you should invite him. It’d been a new experience for you, and an opportunity to get closer to Your Boy.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the new title for the cute guy in his chemistry class, and Taeyong can’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and he really does. 

He thinks about it for the whole rest of their time in the soft cafe. Even as they bicker over their sandwiches and tea, poking and jabbing at each other until a passerby might think they’re legitimately about to go at each other’s throats, the idea of inviting Jongin to the game with him lingers in the back of Taeyong’s mind.

By the end of their meeting, he’s come to a conclusion. It’s a good idea, and he’s going to do it. He’s going to make the first move and hopefully end up with a new friend, or, dare he pray, a boyfriend.

Just the thought makes him grin to himself as he walks away from the small shop and his friend, heading back to campus for his last class of the day, which just so happens to be none other than chemistry. He bites his bottom lip and nibbles at it while mentally running through the plan he’s conjured up over the past thirty minutes.

It’s remarkably simple actually. He always seems to get there a few minutes before Jongin, so today, he’ll pause and wait by the door for the older student to show up. When he does, Taeyong will ask if they can sit together, and at the end of class, he’ll ask if he can accompany him out of the building. As they walk out, he’ll bring the soccer game up in passing and casually ask if Jongin is going. And then, finally, he’ll pop the question.

He grins even bigger and accidentally bites his lip a little too hard, wincing when the skin breaks and he tastes a hint of blood. No matter though, he merely swipes his tongue over his lip and keeps going on cheerfully, a smile still present on his face. He feels like he’s on top of the world, his good mood having been built upon throughout his lunch with Doyoung. 

In the moment, he feels like nothing can get him down.

But then it happens.

Taeyong is halfway across the large quad at the center of campus when he realizes something is off, and when he does, when he finally picks up on the unsettled ache at the base of his spine, it hits him like a freight train.

Something is terribly, terribly wrong. He’s in danger.

His smile falls as unease prickles under his skin, so sudden and sharp that he freezes in his tracks, all other thoughts wiped from his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, goosebumps rising over his skin.

He’s being watched. More than watched, he’s being blatantly stared at, and he can practically feel the ominous intentions radiating from whoever the culprit is. He feels so small, so horribly fragile and vulnerable to whatever creature is boring its gaze into the back of his head.

And now that he’s felt it, it’s impossible to ignore. He tries, shrugging it off as mere anxiety and continuing on his way down the sidewalk, but his instincts are screaming at him to not just run but _flee._ To get away as fast as possible and go as far away as he can from this place, from the thing watching him.

He can feel its gaze following him, the hunger behind its stalking eyes so hot that it feels like a raw flame being held against his skin, lapping at his flesh until it burns and stings. The dark intensity is familiar, he realizes, and then it finally clicks into place.

The memory of those glowing golden eyes echo in his mind, and suddenly he’s sprinting, running as fast as his trembling legs can carry him. He doesn’t even go to the building of his next class, instead making a break for the closest door he sees. He just needs to _get away._

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, relief washes over him like a tsunami, so heavy that he collapses to the ground. His chest heaves with every panting breath, his shoulders rising and falling in time, and his eyes sting with unshed tears. He doesn’t even respond when a worried passerby, the only other person in the hallway, approaches him and frantically asks if he’s alright. Really, he doesn’t even hear her question, the buzz of his own blood rushing in his ears much too loud.

That was it, his mind screams at him. That was his Death. It was lurking behind him, looming, creeping like a shadow without an owner, threatening to swallow him up in its darkness the moment the opportunity arose. And he nearly gave it that chance. If he’d waited a moment longer then he would've --

The girl’s hand touches his shoulder, and his whole body jerks, his eyes darting up to meet those of the concerned fox staring back at him. She asks again, “Are you alright? Should I call somebody for you?”

He gapes at her, at her canine-esque ears, and in that split second, all his fur stands on end, and his pupils blow wide, dilating until just slivers of his natural brown color remain. His blood runs colder than Arctic waters, but he breaks out in a sweat. His raw instincts kick in, jumpstarting his body, and suddenly he’s on his feet, scrambling down the hallway in a burst of panic. 

He barely registers the sound of the girl calling after him, her voice distressed and frantic, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps running, his feet nearly slipping out from under him as he turns a corner way too fast, his shoes squealing on the smooth tiled floor.

As he runs, his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest, pounding against his ribcage with an instinctual fear. He feels wild, like he’s not himself, like he’s been reduced to merely some poor, dumb little four-legged sheep. A small prey creature running from some unseen threat, fueled solely by the flight response in fight-or-flight.

He moves with tunnel vision, some inside force guiding him completely as he bursts out through an exit of the building. He takes off sprinting across the campus, fleeing from whatever nonexistent monster his mind believes is lunging after him, shoving past the few people he passes as he goes.

It’s only when he reaches the middle of the soccer field that reality hits him like a brick flung through the air. He stumbles to a stop, crying out as he trips over his own feet and falls to the ground. All the air is knocked out of him when he hits the earth, and he takes a few moments to just lie there on his stomach and recover, gasping for breath into the dirt and grass, the blades of the finely-manicured field tickling his lips and under his nose.

Finally, he shrugs his backpack off and flips himself over onto his back with a long groan, eyes screwing shut tight in pain as he settles into his temporary bed. His whole body aches, but the muscles in his legs especially burn. His mind still feels like it’s on fire, burning and buzzing inside his skull with residual adrenaline. He rests one shaking hand on his heaving chest and feels the drum of his heart, so strong it shakes his bones.

Being a prey hybrid is awful, he concludes through the haze of exhaustion beginning to cloud his thinking. Fleeing like that, the sort of out of control, feral sprinting -- it’s his body and mind’s natural response to fearful situations, and he hates it.

He hates how tiring it is. How it makes him feel out of control. How it makes him feel so weak and useless. He hates being made to run from his fears. He’s more than able to fend for himself, but he just can’t. Some part of his genetic makeup just won’t let him. It feels like his hands are tied, like he’s just along for the ride. Some are able to manage it, some don’t even experience it, but of course he just had to be one of the unfortunate few where it’s _heightened._

Unfortunate, just like his horns. Just like his small stature. Just like his everything.

He opens his eyes to stare up at the sky and bites the inside of his cheek when his vision begins to blur with salty tears.

Being a prey hybrid truly is awful.

For what feels like an hour, he just lies there, choking back sobs while soaking in the sun. His final class for the day and his hopeful plans are reduced to mere ghosts in the back of his mind now, and they’re only revived when he’s finally forced to move again, stirred into action by the distant sound of lively chattering people, likely the soccer team coming for practice.

He leaps to his feet and slings his backpack on as he hurries himself off the field. By now, his mind feels a bit clearer, but still so damn exhausted, even more than this morning. 

Still, even through the haze of weariness that’s settled like a thick fog between his ears, some part of him wants to continue on with his day like normal. Some poor, desperate part of him wants to go to class and sit next to his crush and take notes and ask him out. He wants to just keep going and pretend like this never happened.

So he starts heading in the direction of his class’s building, thinking maybe he can catch the last fifteen minutes at least, just enough time to get at least a little acquainted with Jongin, but for a split second, he thinks about his bed.

And then he promptly decides that is much more appealing to his tired body and mind. His heart aches when he thinks about giving up, even temporarily, on his plans to invite Jongin to the game, but he just can’t bring himself to care that much about it, his whole being craving to be home and in bed and nowhere else.

Besides, he tells himself weakly, there’s always tomorrow.

In a matter of minutes, he’s off campus and heading to the train station, dragging his feet pretty much the whole way. He feels like a zombie, even more dazed and out of it than Jaehyun is in the mornings.

He boards the train and shrugs his backpack off as he plops himself down in the closest empty seat, hugging his bag tight on his lap. As the train takes off towards the other side of the city, his gaze gradually drifts until he finds himself staring past the person directly in front of him across the car.

For a little while, all he feels is the shifting of the train, all he hears is the rumbling of the wheels on the tracks, and all he sees is the blurring cityscape over the man’s shoulder. It’s almost hypnotic in a way, gradually relaxing him until his eyelid feels even heavier.

Typically, his ride home is filled with more excitement than this. He’d usually be excited about getting home to play Animal Crossing with his dad in the living room, or even cooking dinner with his mom, or maybe brushing up on his martial arts with Jaehyun in the courtyard. But today all he can think about is his bed.

He imagines it, the soft and fluffy sheets waiting for him, beckoning him. He imagines lying down and nuzzling his face into the feathery pillow, finally relaxing as he’s tucked into warmth and safety, bundled up in it all like a turtle in its cozy shell. He can practically feel it now, like he’s floating through the sky on the back of a grand, wonderful cloud, not a care in the world. 

It’s delightful.

The train coming to a stop at his station startles him out of his daydreams, and he opens his eyes (when did he even close them?) to stand up and exit the car, alongside several other passengers. They all exit the train and go their separate ways, Taeyong hauling himself towards his usual route. It’s a bit out of the way, adding about an extra five minutes onto his walk home, but it makes for a peaceful and quiet stroll, bypassing the other streets that are usually crowded and bustling with the afternoon rush.

The silence is something he greatly appreciates as he heads down one of the quiet backstreets, just him and a few other stragglers along the narrow stretch. The road here is barely wide enough to be considered anything but an alley. As a result, it doesn’t see much traffic, so he doesn’t even think twice of crossing to the other sidewalk on a whim, just to avoid the couple standing by a street food stand.

As he does so, however, he notices movement out of the corner of his eye.

He risks just a quick glance, a flick of his eyes in that direction, and he nearly scoffs at himself when he sees it’s just another man crossing the street a few feet behind him. His instincts aren’t set off by the man’s presence, so he clearly means no harm. Nothing to worry about.

He keeps walking, shaking his head slowly at his own overactive brain as he goes. He did get really shaken up earlier, so it does make sense to be at least a little on alert, but suspecting anyone and everyone around him? That’s just too much.

As he turns the corner to head down a short alleyway connecting the two skinny streets, he continues thinking about what the rest of his afternoon will consist of. He’ll be arriving home earlier than usual, but if he’s lucky, he can slip by his parents without notice to avoid being questioned about it.

But then he _has_ to scoff at himself. As if he’d ever be able to sneak past his mom. There’s no use in trying, she’ll probably notice him as soon as he steps foot in the courtyard. Prey hybrids usually have pretty sharp senses, but his mother’s seem especially so. It’s partially what makes her such an amazing fighter.

When they used to train together, Taeyong and even Jaehyun always had trouble outwitting her. She always seemed to know exactly what they were going to do before even they knew. Not once in all the years they trained, even after earning their black belts from Taeil, did either one of them ever managed to knock her off her feet.

It’s one of the reasons he admires her so much -- she’s a prey hybrid, a _small_ one at that, but she’s so unbelievably strong. He imagines she could take anyone down with her eyes closed, a thought that is only backed up by the story his parents told him and Jaehyun once about how she managed to sweep their father’s legs out from under him. Apparently he hit the floor so hard, their mom bounced an inch off the ground, and that was when they realized they were in love.

Or something like that. He smiles weakly at the cheesiness of the memory and shakes his head fondly, but his smile slowly begins to fade as he continues on his way, walking down the second street towards the next alleyway.

He wishes he could be like his mother. Strong, unwavering. She’s always been his hero, ever since he can remember. He’s always wanted to be just like her.

But, again, he’s one of the unfortunate few. Where his mother is one of the prey hybrids to have mastered the fight response, his instincts are stuck in flight. Where she stands her ground and faces whatever comes at her without even a glimmer of fear, he tucks his tail between his legs and runs as far as he possibly can. Where she’s admirable, a natural born leader, he’s --

_Footsteps._

The sound makes him freeze. He’s halfway down the second alleyway now, having not even realized he was already this far, too caught up in his own thoughts. His brain is blank of all that now though, all his focus suddenly dedicated to the noise that just broke the silence from somewhere behind him.

Then he feels it -- a presence.

It’s faint at first, but as soon as he picks up on it, it’s the loudest thing he’s ever felt, like the bassy rumbling of thunder a mere ten feet away. Immediately, panic washes over him, but unlike the times before, this time it feels especially real. The feeling is nearly solid, palpable in the air around him, bitter and heavy on his tongue and in his lungs, thick like an early morning fog. He feels like he’s drowning in it, the sensation stealing his air until he can’t breathe, his throat tight and burning with rising tears.

He’s in danger. Real danger. He knows it now, he knows how different it feels to what he felt before. It’s similar in some ways, in the sense that his blood freezes in his veins and he’s overwhelmed with the sense of smallness and vulnerability, but it’s just so much _more_ at the same time. It’s so much, it’s almost hard for him to comprehend.

It’s terrifying in some visceral way that he’s never felt before.

Slowly, cautiously, he turns around. He doesn’t know why he does it, he just does, his body moving on its own, and his lips part in a silent breath when he sees the source of the sound.

Stood in the mouth of the alley is a tall man wearing a black hat, the bill casting a shadow over his face. A black fabric mask covers his nose and mouth, and sunglasses conceal his eyes, and yet even with these vague features, he’s still painfully familiar in the poor lamb’s mind. It takes what feels like a lifetime before it finally clicks.

A mere ten minutes ago, this was the man crossing the street behind him, but even further than that, Taeyong remembers the train ride. Specifically, the man sitting directly across the car from him.

Suddenly, Taeyong feels like he’s going to be sick. He’s been stalked. 

This whole time, this man has been following him. He’s been following him since the train ride, possibly even before that, and Taeyong had absolutely no idea. Not for a second did he catch even an inkling that something was wrong. Even after being on edge all morning long, even while being so damn alert that he was freaking out over the smallest things, he couldn’t pick up on _this._

He couldn’t pick up on the _real_ danger.

The man takes a step forward, and his hand moves to his belt. He pushes his jacket aside to unsheathe a large, jagged-toothed hunting knife, the metal glinting just slightly in the dim light of the alley. That silent threat should be enough to have Taeyong running for the hills, but instead, he feels frozen in place under that invisible glare, those unseen eyes locked on him through the darkened lenses.

He steps forward again, fist tightening around the black handle of his knife, and Taeyong’s fingers twitch helplessly at his sides. He knows he should run, he can feel it in his bones, he can feel his soul screaming at him to get away, but his body just won’t work. His instincts refuse to react. He’s scared, his mind kicked into flight, but his body refusing to follow. He feels like he’s in ice, frozen inside and out. He can’t even breathe, like he’s being strangled by the man’s mere aura.

Two more steps, sleek black shoes tapping on the pavement, and the gap between them grows even smaller. Taeyong is overtaken with more than a feeling of helplessness. He’s more than powerless, more than incapable. 

He’s already dead.

He recognizes this scene now, though the feeling is different. He recognizes this alleyway, dingy and dark, filled with a gross and musty smell. He recognizes the sounds, the beating of his own heart, the tip-tap of shoes. 

He recognizes the beast before him. It’s not a wolf though. It’s merely a man. A faceless man, though he supposes it makes sense for Death to not have a face.

He recognizes, just as he did in his dream, that this is his destiny. That this is what’s written for him in the book of life, wherever that accursed thing lies, penned by whichever force has the cruelest streak. This is the lackluster conclusion to his pitifully short 20-year-long chapter.

And yet despite how disappointing it is, he understands why this is happening. As the son of the head of a large mafia family, he’s pretty much always had a target painted on his back. He always had a feeling this is how he would go, that this would be the end that the fates chose for him. He just didn’t know it would come so soon.

Some possibly cliche part of his racing brain thinks, _there’s so much I haven’t done yet,_ and his mind goes back to Jongin. He’ll never get to go to the game with Jongin, he’ll never even get to ask. He’ll never go to his first college party. He’ll never lose his virginity.

And then his mind goes even further back, all the way to that morning -- his family.

Jaehyun, waking him up with that cute drowsy face, giving him a kiss goodbye every single morning. God, why didn’t he smile like usual that morning? Why didn’t he kiss him back? Why didn’t he tell Jaehyun he loved him?

And his dad, so strong and silent, eating breakfast with him, sitting in the floor and playing Animal Crossing with him. He’ll never get to play with him like that again. They had so many more fruits to trade. His dad has even been doing online play in his spare time just to get the fruits Taeyong needed. Now that’s all a waste.

And his mom, hugging him, smiling at him, petting him. Scolding him when he bites his lip or when he doesn’t eat enough or when he clean his room. Caring about him, loving him. He’ll never experience that again. Her warmth, her smell, nothing.

It’s all gone.

Clenching his trembling fists at his sides, Taeyong shuts his eyes as tight as he possibly can, trying to keep the tears from escaping his eyes, but he still feels them streaking hot down his cheeks a moment later. He tries to breathe in to keep calm but just ends up hiccuping, a little sob slipping out of his lips as he exhales, his shoulders shuddering. It’s hard not to cry when he’s facing the end.

Before long, the man is standing just a few inches from him, leaning in so close that Taeyong can feel his breath fanning over his face, the blade of his knife hovering just over his stomach, and it’s enough to make Taeyong feel like he’s going to be sick, his stomach flipping and twisting.

Through his tears, he wishes this to just be a dream, to just be some horrible nightmare or even a scary daydream his poor, stressed brain has come up with. He wishes that he could open his eyes and make everything disappear, just as he’d done while walking up that morning.

He no longer wants to run. He just wants this plague of a creature to vanish.

And just like that, it’s like a switch flips inside him.

He opens his eyes, and he defies his destiny.

Recalling what he’s learned over the years, the exact thing he was thinking of earlier, Taeyong takes control over himself and finally forces his body into action. 

It happens in a split second, so fast the man isn’t even given the opportunity to react. He does it just as smoothly as he did during his last training session with Jaehyun, shifting his shoulders, bringing his right knee straight up, rotating his hips, and then --

_Snap._

All the tension in his body is released just like that, and his foot makes direct contact with the side of the man’s head. All the force Taeyong put behind the sharp kick of his leg pays off, as the taller man is sent stumbling back before falling, that frightening weapon of his clattering noisily to the ground beside him.

Taeyong doesn’t wait for even a millisecond longer. As soon as he has both feet on the ground again, he takes off running down the alleyway, going as fast as his legs can carry him.

However, just as he reaches the mouth of the alley, something calls out to him, and he skids to a stop. Panting, he risks a glance back over his shoulder, some part of him wanting to see that terrible beast’s defeated face one last time.

And all he sees is gold. The kick threw the man’s glasses off, and now two eyes that glow like drops of honey in sunlight against the shadows are staring directly at him. There’s anger in them, a feral sort of hunger and fury like nothing Taeyong has ever seen before, not even in his nightmare.

His heart nearly stops in his chest, and he runs away without so much as a second thought.

In a matter of minutes, he’s home. He doesn’t even register pushing the door open and sprinting across the courtyard, only really coming to once he’s wrapped up in his mother’s arms in the middle of the living room. He was so panicked, he didn’t even take his shoes off before entering their house, but the ewe holding him doesn’t seem to mind, instead much more concerned with why he looks like he’s just seen a ghost and why he’s shaking like a leaf.

After asking a few times what’s wrong and not getting any answer other than a few trembling breaths and whimpers, she guides him over to the couch and sits him down. “Yong, tell me--” she tries to lean back as she speaks, but Taeyong won’t let her get more than a few inches before pulling her back in, letting out a weak noise as he leans down to nuzzle his face into her neck.

Her scent is so wonderful, the best thing he’s ever smelled, soothing in the way only a mother’s can be. She smells like honeysuckles, and she’s warm like the morning sun. It’s so nice, but then the thought of “I almost died, I wouldn’t have been able to experience this anymore” occurs to him once again. And it’s like a dam in his heart bursts.

He hiccups as the tears start to overflow, and the broken little sound startles his mother and the other three men in the room, all watching on in concern.

The small ewe peels herself away from her son to look at his face, both hands coming up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs wiping away his tears. “Taeyong?” she asks in a soft yet urgent voice, thin eyebrows pinched together as she stares at him. “Taeyong, talk to me, what happened?”

It takes him a few more seconds of sniffling and quietly crying, his hands resting over his mother’s on his cheeks, before he finally manages to rasp out, “A man tried to attack me.”

His mother’s reaction is immediate, her expression falling into one of pure motherly rage, a fire burning in her eyes. Her voice remains calm and steady though as she asks, “What happened? What did he look like?”

He has to swallow before describing the events and the man in a soft and quiet voice, relaying everything he can remember to his mom and the other men standing in the room. When Taeyong glances over while talking, he finds that Jaehyun is one of them, his expression deadly serious, almost scarily so. It’s the most intense Taeyong has ever seen him look, and he finds himself getting choked up again while speaking, interrupting himself to beg quietly, “Jae, please don’t go after him.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows raise, a look of surprise rising to his face, but before he can say anything, their mother cups Taeyong’s cheeks a little tighter and brings his gaze back to hers.

“He won’t, Yong, don’t worry.”

Of course, Jaehyun immediately tries to argue, stepping past Seokmin and Seungkwan, who both look equally ready to fight and shocked. “But-!”

“No buts,” she snaps, her voice taking on _that_ tone. It’s a tone they all know too well, when she switches from “mother” to “head of the family.” She turns to look at Jaehyun, a frown on her face. “It’s clear what this is, it’s an attack on our family. If they’re targeting Taeyong, they’ll be targeting you even more so as the direct heir to the seat, Jae, you know this.”

The way Jaehyun purses his lips tight instead of responding makes that much clear. He knows she’s right, he can’t argue, but then he looks at Taeyong and huffs. “But he tried to-”

“I know,” the ewe interrupts him again. She looks back to Taeyong one more time, flashing him a gentle smile and leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead, before standing from the couch. Taeyong is suddenly reminded of just why he’s always admired her so as he stares up at her while she puts her hands on her hips and orders around the men nearly twice her size, “Seokmin, Seungkwan, can you two go out and search for this guy? Be stealthy. If you find him, do not interact. Follow him, find out where he came from if you can. Understood?”

They both nod and bark out twin responses of “yes, ma’am!” before hurrying out the door together, immediately going into bickering about their plan and who’s going which way.

As soon as they’re out of her hair, the small woman turns to look at her two sons, looking back and forth between them with a serious frown. “You two, stay indoors until your father gets home. I’m going to call some of the other boys to come guard the house for a while, and then we’re finding you _both_ bodyguards.”

Jaehyun’s protest is predictably immediate. “ _Mom!_ I don’t need a bodyguard, and neither does Yong, I can protect myself _and_ him!”

“That’s enough, Jaehyun,” she says with finality, lowering her voice to a firm tone, her whole presence challenging the young ram to argue again. 

Jaehyun really looks like he’s considering it for a second before letting out a resigned sigh, his shoulders slumping as he looks away in defeat. It kills him inside, that much is clear from just looking at him, and Taeyong feels the urge to wrap him up in a hug and thank him for the gesture at least.

With that, their mother nods. “So please close all the doors and windows. I’m going to be on the phone in the kitchen, okay?” she says, and Taeyong nods in confirmation when she looks his way. She heads off to do exactly what she said, expression still serious, the gears in her mind visibly turning as she mulls over their options.

Once she’s out of the room, Jaehyun turns to look at Taeyong, all his concern and frustration betrayed by the gleam in his gaze. It makes Taeyong’s heart ache, and he suddenly feels overwhelmed by his emotions again, blinking away tears as he opens his arms in silent offering to his older brother.

In the next second, Jaehyun’s beside him on the couch and hugging him tighter and closer than Taeyong’s ever been held before. It nearly takes his breath away, but he manages, hugging back not quite as tight but as much as he can. He buries his face into Jaehyun’s neck and inhales his scent just as he did with their mother, finding it just as comforting, the smooth, woody smell chasing away his tears.

“He didn’t hurt you?” Jaehyun whispers, and Taeyong shakes his head as much as he can in this position.

After a few more beats of silence and consideration, he pulls back to look at Jaehyun and replies quietly, “But I definitely hurt him.”

Jaehyun blinks, and then a big grin spreads across his face as he recalls Taeyong mentioning earlier how he’d managed to down the taller stranger with one kick, a fact that had really impressed everyone in the room, though no one voiced it in the moment. He practically beams with pride for his younger brother as he ruffles his hair, and they share a brief laugh before falling back into a tight, close embrace.

Even though the five men their mother called show up about twenty minutes later, followed closely by their panicked father, who lands a quick kiss and pat to both of his sons’ heads, Taeyong doesn’t find out who his bodyguard will be until three days later.

It’s a long and difficult three days, mainly because his parents both agreed that he and Jaehyun shouldn’t leave the house until they’re able to find suitable bodyguards for them. At one point, after Jaehyun whines about it for the fourth or twentieth time, their mother explains to both of them, “All the other boys are busy right now looking for the guy that attacked Yong and guarding the house. If Yixing and Minghao were here, this wouldn’t be a problem, but since they’re both in China right now, we have to outsource.”

Being cooped up seems to nearly drive Jaehyun mad, but Taeyong doesn’t mind it so much. While Jaehyun is out in the courtyard, brushing up on his taekwondo with Taeil, who he called to come visit and help him practice, Taeyong sits inside in the living room and plays Animal Crossing with their father.

The huge ram agreed to take a few days off work until they’re able to get everything sorted out, and Taeyong really thinks his presence helps keep the other household members calm. Several times, he’ll see his mother pacing the main hall while grumbling to herself, but then his dad will walk up behind her and scoop her up in a big hug, and the effect is immediately clear in the way she smiles every single time.

With Jaehyun, too. There are a few moments over the three day wait where he’s practicing too hard, pushing himself so far that he nearly collapses under the summer heat. From where they sit in the living room, they can hear Taeil telling him to take a break, followed by Jaehyun yelling at him he wants to keep going. Whenever it happens, their dad will just excuse himself in a soft voice and walk outside, and Taeyong leans to watch as he approaches Jaehyun and gives him a pat on the shoulder, whispering a few unheard words to him.

Within five minutes, Jaehyun is sitting down on the stairs and drinking water with Taeil.

And then there are the moments where he helps Taeyong as well. Be it a small, secret little smile exchanged just between the two of them when he can tell the young lamb is getting too antsy, or a gentle shoulder bump while they sit together on the couch when he can tell he’s getting lost in his thoughts -- he keeps Taeyong sane.

Really, he keeps the whole family sane over the short span of time. Without him, they’d all be a mess, all of them stressed out in their own ways.

The nights alone in Taeyong’s room are the few times his father can’t help. 

After the attempt on his life, that whole event, being corner in that dank alleyway by either the four-legged beast or the knife-wield stranger, is the only thing Taeyong sees when he dreams. The first night, he wakes up at least five times from nightmares before finally deciding to just lie there and wait for morning to come.

When the kind sun finally does arrive, he’s wrecked. His eyes red and puffy from crying, his hair a rats nest from tossing and turning, and his exhausted brain basically mush, to the point where he can barely form a coherent response when Jaehyun pokes his head into his room to give him his usual morning greeting.

Of course, Jaehyun notices right away what’s going on, and he tries to insist Taeyong stay in bed and sleep more, but the younger lamb refuses, unwilling to screw up his sleep schedule and throw his whole groove off just because of one night of bad sleep.

But then it happens the next night as well, and the following day, he’s even worse. He falls asleep at the dining table during lunch and has to be gently shaken awake by Seungkwan, who’s spending the day helping out around the house where the head ewe is busy figuring things out.

It’s not a one time occurence, unfortunately. Throughout the rest of the day, Taeyong continually dozes off, only to be woken by one of his family members. He’s playing games with his dad and nods off. He’s sitting outside watching Jaehyun and Taeil practice and falls asleep sitting up. Even while he’s helping Seungkwan cook dinner, he starts to doze. The one good thing that comes out of it is when he goes to bed, he’s beyond drained, so he’s certain he’s going to get a good night of sleep.

And then he promptly wakes up in tears and gasping for air at 1am.

He’s frustrated beyond belief, but since there’s nothing he can do, he merely sits up against the headboard and hugs his knees tight to his chest. He ducks his head down against the top of his knees and begins his wait for morning, emotions building inside him with each passing second.

Finally, when daytime comes, the rising sun brings along a gift.

Taeyong has just settled down on the couch with his 3DS in his hands, yawning for what feels like the hundredth time just this morning, when there’s a light knock at the closest sliding door. It startles Taeyong’s drowsy mind, but he quickly assumes it to just be one of the family members coming to give his mother an update.

He stands up without hesitation, dropping his gaming system onto the plush couch cushions, and walks over. Then he slides the door open, and finally officially meets the man who’ll change his life.

Seokmin unfortunately stands between them for their first meeting, the deer rambling on about how these two guys showed up at the door saying they were the bodyguards Mrs. Jung-Lee called for but Seokmin doubted them, yadda yadda. All his words fall on deaf ears, Taeyong’s gaze locked on one of the two men standing behind him.

He’s tall, built like a model with a face to match. The way his dark, fluffy hair falls down over his forehead is captivating, just a few strands hanging down in front of his warm amber eyes. His face is soft, welcoming, friendly and _trustworthy._ And his smile is even more so, plush, petal pink lips turning up at the corners as their eyes meet for the first time.

“S-So can we come in?” Seokmin’s voice is suddenly in Taeyong’s ears again, but the lamb doesn’t respond

For a moment, he genuinely forgets how to speak, all his senses preoccupied with soaking in the man on the other side of the bumbling deer. Even his scent is appealing, strong enough to permeate even through Seokmin’s citrus. The stranger’s smell is deep and chocolatey. Or perhaps more like coffee, the young lamb debates with himself, but that goes out the window when he finally notices the man’s species, his eyes finally drifting up to the furry ears atop his head.

He recognizes it immediately. A wolf. The very animal that has been haunting Taeyong's dreams for the past several days.

And yet, when he looks at Johnny, he feels absolutely no fear.

 _Trustworthy,_ his mind reminds him, and he even finds himself smiling ever so slightly in return to the tall predator.

“Young boss?” Seokmin practically whines, voice urgent enough to finally capture Taeyong’s attention. The poor grunt is bouncing nervously on his heels now, almost looking like he has to go to the bathroom, a fact Taeyong would find funny if he could focus on anything other than that wolf.

“Uh, yeah, please come in,” he finally answers in a soft voice, stepping aside to allow the trio in, and it’s only once they’re all stood in the living room that Taeyong actually looks at the smaller of the two wolves.

The second wolf is a lithe man with lavender hair, expressive, twinkling blue eyes, and a beaming smile, which Taeyong quickly realizes is directed right at him. He returns the warm expression with an awkward, nervous little smile of his own and spares the taller of the two wolves one more glance before turning to address Seokmin.

Before he can say a word, though, the deer is off, hurrying away down the hall in search of his boss. Taeyong stares after him for a few seconds before belatedly realizing in a startle what this means.

He’s alone with the two wolves.

A strike of fear shoots through him, and he quickly turns to face the mysterious duo, all the muscles tensing in his body for that split second as he expects the worst. Will they take the opportunity to lunge at him while he’s all “helpless” and alone?

But, no. As soon as his gaze lands on them, he realizes that’s not the case at all, as they both seem to have busied themselves with admiring the decor. The smaller one especially. He’s already over by the thriving plant in the corner of the large living room, cooing in awe while touching its flat leaves, muttering something about herbivores being so good with flowers.

Taeyong eyes him for a moment before looking to the taller of the duo, who’s standing just a few feet away, bent down to look at the DVDs and games stacked in the narrow wooden shelf beside the television. He hesitates for a few breaths before taking a couple steps closer, the man lifting his head and straightening up when he notices the approaching lamb.

“Quite a collection,” he comments, and his voice is like smooth honey, seeping into Taeyong’s senses and taking his breath away. It’s deep, just like his scent, which smells even more prominent now that they’re stood closer to each other, a walking orange no longer between them.

It takes Taeyong some effort to formulate a reply, and when he finally comes up with one, it’s an intelligent stammer of, “Y-Yeah.” 

When he notices the way the wolf is staring at him, lips turned up at the corners, an amused and curious gleam in his eyes, Taeyong feels his cheeks go red with embarrassment. He opens his mouth, about to correct his mistake and elaborate on the topic, when his mother walks in with Seokmin in tow.

Right away, Taeyong notices her expression, serious and perhaps a bit angry. He shies down and averts his eyes when she sweeps that fiery gaze over him, and he half expects the wolves to do the same. He’s never met a person who wouldn’t react in _some_ way when faced with his mother’s “head of the family” stare.

The smaller canine seems caught off-guard by all the intensity she has wrapped up in her tiny form, hesitating just a moment before bowing respectfully, his eyes shifting nervously away from her as he does so, but the wolf closest to Taeyong, on the other hand --

He meets her gaze. He holds it. And then he smiles and bows his head in a polite gesture.

The tension that fills the air is tangible, feeling like a heavy thunder cloud that’s made its home in the living room, flooding the space between all five of them. It feels like it’s buzzing with electricity, warning of a spark that’s sure to explode at the slightest trigger, and Taeyong can see it forming in his mother’s eyes, disbelief and offense shining in her brown orbs.

Fortunately, right as her mouth opens, an insult no doubt on the tip of her tongue, Jaehyun walks in from the hallway, looking and smelling freshly-showered, and asks, “Uh, who’s this?”

“Wolf hires,” their mother calls the two strangers a few minutes later after sitting her sons down on the couch to introduce them. She says it like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, even scrunching her nose up a bit afterwards. 

Wolves from a small pack who basically serve as mercenaries, willing to do whatever they have to for whoever will pay the highest. She explains shamelessly right in front of their faces that they’re both a temporary fix until Minghao and Yixing return from China and a last resort. She explains bitterly that the only reason they turned to hiring them was because when they asked the other Families in the area, none of them agreed to help. 

“Not even the Lions,” she notes with a growl.

Nakamoto Yuta, Taeyong learns is the smaller wolf’s name. He attends the same college as the siblings and is even in the same music program as Jaehyun, so it makes sense when their mother says that’s who he’ll be guarding. Jaehyun doesn’t seem particularly thrilled at the news, crossing his arms and frowning, even huffing a bit, but no one was really expecting him to be pleased.

So that leaves --

“Johnny Suh,” Taeyong repeats his mother’s words without even realizing, surprising everyone else in the room. His eyes never leave the face of the smiling wolf standing before him, and Johnny meets his gaze just as steadily and offers him a hand, which Taeyong stands to take without a second of pause. They shake in a brief greeting, and Taeyoung doubts he’ll ever get the feeling of Johnny’s much larger hand wrapped around his out of his head.

“Lee Taeyong,” the wolf answers barely above a whisper, repeating the name the smaller ewe had told him moments earlier, as he stares into Taeyong’s eyes. “I’m happy to meet you.”

The lamb has to take one quick, steadying breath before murmuring back, “Me too.”

And just like that, these two wolves are welcomed into their lives.

They’re ushered out of their home just as quickly as they arrived, the ewe insisting her sons have one more day to rest before going back into their usual schedules, this time with a wolf at both of their sides.

While his mother goes to get into contact with her two boys in Beijing and Jaehyun goes to get ready for today’s training session with Taeil, Taeyong steps just outside the door to watch as the two canines are led across the courtyard by Seokmin. Yuta admires the flowers as he goes, his chattering audible even from where Taeyong stands, but Johnny seems to be interested in other things.

Right before they reach the door, the tall wolf sends one more glance over his shoulder to the lamb watching after him, and he smiles when their eyes meet. He lifts his hand to wave over his shoulder to Taeyong, long fingers waggling a goodbye, and Taeyong returns the gesture without even thinking about it, his heart pattering quickly in his chest.

The door closes behind them, but even though Johnny’s gone from his vision, Taeyong feels like he’s still right beside him. He sits down on the couch, and he can still smell him in the air, his scent nearly as addictive as the caffeinated coffee it mimics. He can still feel his presence, like weighted blanket draped around his shoulders, and if he closes his eyes, he swears he can even still feel his amber-eyed gaze, curious and searching for _something._

Needless to say, Taeyong is thoroughly distracted for the rest of the day.

When night finally comes around and the moon rears into the sky, Taeyong crawls into bed and settles into the sheets, hugging his favorite pink sheep plushie tight. Even here, his nose picks up on the faintest traces of Johnny, his scent likely clinging to his clothes, and he finds himself smiling into the soft fur of his toy.

He sinks into a gentle slumber, and that’s where he remains throughout the whole night.

For the first time in the past few days, he feels _safe._

Knowing a wolf like Johnny is protecting him and watching out for him like his own personal Guardian Angel, Taeyong finally feels genuinely, completely safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY ITS HERE  
> i thought this was gonna be 5k but nope  
> more tags/relationships/characters to be added as i go!!
> 
> also, huge shoutout to [johnyongsus](https://twitter.com/johnyongsus) on twitter for helping me out so much like omg i love you youre an angel thank you
> 
> twitter: [longerassride](https://twitter.com/longerassride)  
> cc: [catsbyy](https://curiouscat.me/catsbyy)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stares into the headlights of passerby cars, wondering morbidly if the people behind them have a dead body in the back of their vehicle as well.
> 
> Likely not, he realizes, but it is interesting to think about. More interesting than whatever Yuta and Changkyun are bickering about and whatever shitty pop song is playing on the radio.

It all happens in a split second.

The slick, subtle sound of a blade slicing through flesh breaks the stagnant air of the warehouse, and warmth splatters Johnny’s face. Just like that, his world is doused in crimson. It’s an angry red that blinds him, catching on his eyelashes in thick, hot droplets. He winces at the splash of gore and, with a growl, wipes his face clean of the slaughtered lion’s blood.

“Oops,” Yuta chirps from where he stands behind the bleeding, gurgling man slumped in the chair between them. “Wasn’t expecting that. You okay?”

Johnny sighs and stands from kneeling before their victim. He had been talking to the guy, pressing him about this subject and that, when Yuta decided to just cut their conversation short. The topics Johnny interrogated him about were pointless, sure, the whole discussion nothing more than a way to drag out the man’s end and perhaps clue him in on why this was happening to him, but still. He didn’t like being interrupted.

“Yeah, totally,” he snips back, tone short with frustration and tinged with sarcasm. 

He looks down at his shirt and nearly groans aloud when he sees the white material speckled with blood. The only solace he gets is seeing that the splatter missed the sleek leather of his jacket, seeing as he’d taken it off and tossed it aside as soon as they got started, but still, he would’ve much preferred if he hadn’t gotten _any_ on any part of him.

Barely containing a sigh, he shoots his partner one more sharp glare. “I just got covered in a missing man’s blood and scent, that’s all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Yuta hums, and he looks so cocky in that moment, a toothy grin on his pretty face, one hand on his cocked hip while the other twirls the bloodied pocketknife around as if showing off his handiwork. 

Fortunately for him, he’s completely spotless, his flower-print shirt and dark jeans clean of any gore, the exposed skin of his collarbone and chest still beautifully pale as ever, not a mark anywhere to be found. He didn’t even get any on his hands, the lucky bastard, and he seems keen on rubbing that fact in Johnny’s face, raising an eyebrow knowingly when he catches the taller wolf looking him over.

Johnny has half a mind to smack him for looking and acting so cheeky, but he manages to resist the temptation and heaves another troubled sigh before leaving the scene to fetch the cleaning supplies from the bed of their truck. The tarp they laid down will catch a majority of the blood, but his pack has a reputation to uphold. 

Thorough, quick, easy, and _clean._ He’ll be damned if he taints that image by leaving even a spot of blood on the warehouse floor for the next visitor to find.

When he returns to the scene with all the necessary tools in hand, he finds Yuta giggling to himself as he scrolls through the still bleeding man’s phone, nosy as ever. Unamused, Johnny throws the mop his way, and Yuta yelps, dropping the phone to the concrete floor with a clatter to catch the mop by the handle.

“Jooohnny!” he whines and squats to pick the device back up, pouting when he finds the screen cracked. He looks up at his partner, half glaring, his fluffy ears laid back flat atop his head. He looks like a child, Johnny notes but says nothing about it. “He had some good stuff on there, come on.”

“Not our business,” is all Johnny says in return, walking past to the faucet and hose on the wall. He doesn’t know what this warehouse was used for in the past, but he thanks the builders for putting in such a convenient water source. It’s certainly not meant to be used to clean up murders, but it makes their job much easier.

While he goes about filling the bucket with water from the hose, as well as a generous dash of bleach, Yuta whines on and on. Still, even while throwing himself a proper pity party, he does his job nonetheless, untying the dead lion’s limbs, emptying his pockets of the rest of his belongings(including his wallet, from which Yuta pockets a generous amount of cash for himself), and unceremoniously shoving him out of the chair. 

Johnny hears it when the man lands face-first in the puddle of blood that’s since pooled in the tarp beneath him, a heavy and wet thump, quickly followed by an indignant squeak from Yuta.

“My shoes!” the other wolf wails, and Johnny looks back over his shoulder, barking a laugh when he sees the red specks coloring Yuta’s beloved white dress shoes. They’d cost him a pretty penny, designer brand, handmade of high-end leather.

“Karma,” he chimes, earning a sharp look from Yuta. “Serves you right.”

Yuta cries his despair the whole rest of the cleanup, but Johnny merely hums back to whatever he says, barely paying him any attention as they wrap the heavy man in the bloodied tarp and then mop up all the fluids that spilled out. The mess is nowhere near the worst they’ve seen, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant.

“One, two, three--”

The two of them both grunt with the effort as they lift the wrapped up man, one of them holding each end. Slowly, they waddle their way to the open door where the truck sits just outside, backed up just a few feet from the doorway, tailgate open and waiting.

Getting the large hunk of a lion in the truckbed is more than a job. It’s a damn struggle. The lion is nearly twice Johnny’s size, tall and packed with lean muscle and bulk, but they still manage. Johnny hauls himself up into the bed first and then pulls the man up, all the while Yuta is huffing and puffing, pushing and shoving and lifting the other end as much as he possibly can.

In all the struggle, Johnny can’t help but be thankful for the fact that Yuta suggested drugging the guy when they kidnapped him. If they have this much trouble with him when he’s dead, he can’t even begin to imagine how they would’ve handled him alive and fully conscious.

After repeatedly nearly tripping over the logs of firewood haphazardly strewn about the truckbed, Johnny finally drops the man with one final grunt, and the whole vehicle feels like it bounces under the lion’s weight. He straightens up with a relieved sigh to catch his breath and reaches behind himself to rub at the small of his sweat-dampened back, an ache already forming deep in his muscles from the strain. He really can’t wait to get home, shower, and sleep.

“Tired already, pops?” Yuta laughs like he hasn’t got a care in the world, but when Johnny looks at him, he finds him looking about as worn out as he feels, face rosy red under the low glow of the streetlight and forehead covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He’s panting too, a cheeky grin on his face, and Johnny can’t help but smile back, as if his partner’s cheerfulness is rubbing off on him.

“No way,” he chuckles back, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve still got plenty of energy.”

“I sure hope so, cause we still gotta get this dude out once we get there.” Yuta jerks his chin in the lion's direction as he talks, drawing Johnny’s gaze down to the lifeless lump. 

And suddenly, he feels sick, bile rising in his throat as it finally seems to click in his mind what exactly he’s standing over. The realization grips him like a vice, squeezing the air out of his lungs, and he has to fight to free himself from its hold, tearing his gaze away before the sickness can completely consume him.

He draws in one shaky breath and says simply, “Let’s go get this over with.”

Yuta nods his agreement, not sensing a single thing off, and while he darts back inside to gather up the cleaning supplies, Johnny hops out of the truckbed, grunting when his feet hit the ground. Trying his best to numb his mind like his partner seemingly has so well, he walks up to the passenger side door and swings it open, only to be immediately blasted with the chilly breath of the air conditioner and the overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke.

He scrunches his nose but hops in anyway, cutting his eyes at the man in the driver’s seat while buckling his seatbelt. “Do you really have to smoke in here?” he asks, voice nearly a whine.

Changkyun glances over, black ears perking up at the attention, cigarette tucked between his lips as he takes a drag. “Sorry,” he answers, smoke following his voice, the cloud slipping out of his mouth like the breath of a dragon, swirling around the silver ring piercing his bottom lip. 

He rolls down the window then and blows what’s left out into the night air, and while it is a considerate act, it doesn’t do much. The whole cab is still soaked in the thick scent, a fact Johnny will seemingly just have to deal with.

“It’s fine,” the older wolf sighs and glances towards the mirror on his side of the truck, eyeing the warehouse doorway in wait for Yuta’s return.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take but a few more minutes of silent smoking and wishing before the third member of their trio comes hurrying out. Johnny lets out a breath of relief when he sees him and sinks back into the seat. Finally, they can get out of here.

Yuta carelessly throws all the cleaning supplies into the back of the truck and then rushes to the passenger’s side. He pulls the door open and flashes Johnny a toothy grin, holding up the black leather jacket in his hand. “You forgot this.”

“Oh, thank-”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Yuta carelessly tosses the jacket into his waiting hands, barely giving him half a second before scrambling up into his lap.

“God- watch it!” the older barks when Yuta nearly slips, catching himself with a hand landing a bit too close to Johnny’s privates. He gives a frustrated warning growl and grabs Yuta by the back of his silky black and white shirt, hauling him up into his lap like he’s lifting a pup by the scruff.

Yuta just giggles his thanks and then crawls and scoots across him to the center seat. He practically headbutts Changkyun as he wiggles into the narrow, cramped space, and again ignores the second warning growl he gets, this time from the younger wolf. Once he’s settled between his two packmates, he huffs his satisfaction and grins.

“There we go,” he chirps, sitting pretty and beaming bright, seemingly blissfully unaware of (or just downright ignoring) the twin side-eyes he’s getting from the other wolves.

Both Johnny and Changkyun shortly reach the same consensus that it’s just not worth the energy to scold or even get frustrated with him, so the two just share a sigh and look away in defeat.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Changkyun mutters and flicks his cigarette out the window. He reaches down between Yuta’s spread knees to grab the gearshift, shifting the truck into drive, and the engine of the vehicle rumbles in a shaky purr as they pull out of the parking lot.

Johnny’s eyes linger on the looming building’s image in the side mirror as they drive down the street, his mind gradually tuning out the world around him as Yuta begins to chatter on about this and that while searching for something to listen to on the radio. 

When he can no longer see the haunting silhouette of the warehouse, he shifts his attention to the surrounding cityscape. His gaze follows the passing lights that still burn inside buildings even this late in the night, and his eyes skip from streetlamp to streetlamp, who flicker like they’re on their last legs. He stares into the headlights of passerby cars, wondering morbidly if the people behind them have a dead body in the back of their vehicle as well.

Likely not, he realizes, but it is interesting to think about. More interesting than whatever Yuta and Changkyun are bickering about and whatever shitty pop song is playing on the radio.

It’s like that for a while, more than an hour actually. Everything passes in front of Johnny’s weary eyes like fairy lights dancing to this gray, late night soundtrack -- the distant noise of his friends’ voices, the roar of the car’s engine, the hum of wheels on asphalt, the general buzz of city nightlife. Somewhere, an ambulance is racing by. Somewhere, a car alarm is blaring. Somewhere, a dog is barking.

He closes his eyes, rests his head against the chilled glass of the window, and takes it all in. The busy sounds comfort him and distract him from the smoke and iron and bleach scents that cling to his clothes, from the messy, scary thoughts that whip around in his mind. The glow of speeding lights against his eyelids numbs his brain like a spell, making it hard for him to think in the best possible way.

In all the droning stimulation to his worn senses, he loses himself. So much so that he doesn’t even realize he’s started to doze off until the truck comes to a very sudden halt, the whole vehicle jerking and jolting him awake, plunging him back into reality full force, as startling as falling into a sea of icy water. He blinks a few times and turns to look at Yuta, who doesn’t seem to notice his confusion, too busy with unbuckling himself from the center seat.

When he looks out the window, he finds no sign of life now, no lights anywhere save for the moon and stars overhead. The towering skyscrapers have been replaced by distant shadowy mountains, the asphalt by sand and dirt, and the hum of life by complete and utter silence. It’s only then, when he’s made painfully aware of just how alone the three of them are, that it finally sets in with a sinking feeling where they are and why they’re here.

The job, right.

Almost reluctantly, he unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the truck, taking his jacket with him. The temperature in the desert drops drastically at night, and as soon as his feet hit the dirt, he feels the chill in the air.

Draping his jacket over one shoulder, he holds the door open with one hand for Yuta to follow him. The pretty boy smiles at him and pats his shoulder with a chirpy thanks, and Johnny just barely manages a smile back, his mind too exhausted to muster a proper response.

“Wellp,” Changkyun sighs from the back of the truck, letting the tailgate drop and bounce open. He clambers his way up into the truckbed, and Johnny watches with a bitter taste in his mouth as the younger wolf lands kick after kick to the corpse's ribs and legs and head through the tarp.

Every hit sounds worse than the last, a few punctuated with awful cracking sounds as the solid toe of the reckless wolf’s boot lands again and again. Finally, the dead weight is sent tumbling out of the truck, hitting the dirt with a solid, painful thud that even makes Yuta flinch.

Changkyun turns his attention back to the two wolves staring up at him then and looks down at his nose at the duo, hands on his hips and eyes shining like the moon haloed behind his head. “So who wants to collect brush, and who wants to get his legs?”

After receiving a particularly pleading look from Yuta, Johnny reluctantly takes the latter job and slips his jacket on before moving to grab the body’s legs with Changkyun. Their partner goes running off to collect whatever brush he can find to burn with the firewood they brought in the truckbed, lighting his way with his phone’s flashlight. Johnny almost wants to yell at him to be careful, but the ball of energy is off before he can say a word.

“He’s so much,” Changkyun comments under his breath while he and Johnny heave and tug the dead body along, leaving a trail in the dirt.

“Yeah, it’s pretty heavy,” Johnny grunts his agreement.

“No, Yuta.”

Johnny glances over to find the younger wolf’s sharp eyes cast upwards. He follows his gaze to watch Yuta’s illuminated figure bounce along here and there between the tall, looming shadows of cacti, accompanied by the distant sound of the wolf chattering on to himself about whatever’s on his overactive mind. Thankfully they're completely alone out here. Yuta isn't really the best at being sneaky.

He lets out a strained breath through his nose and looks back down to the wrapped leg in his hands. “Yeah, he is.”

“So much,” Changkyun mutters one more time, and that’s the extent of their conversation, silence lingering until they finally come to a stop a good distance from the truck and drop the corpse to the dirt. 

Johnny takes a step back and stretches with a groan low in his throat, his muscles aching from the strain he just put them through. Even with another person’s help, dragging such a huge dead weight proved to be quite an effort, so much so that now he feels sticky with sweat once again.

The flicker of a spark catches his attention, and he looks over to watch as Changkyun brings his lighter up to the cigarette tucked between his lips, its flame casting a warm glow across his features. His eyes suddenly flick up to meet Johnny’s, amber orbs lit and shining with the fire beneath them in some sort of chilling way, and Johnny finds himself averting his gaze, the intense look striking him with a tinge of discomfort.

“Just say if you want one,” Changkyun says quietly, but Johnny merely shakes his head, distracting himself by watching Yuta running around in the distance.

Eventually, the light of Yuta’s phone begins drawing nearer, stopping for just a moment at the moonlit truck, and then he comes rushing up with an armload of wood, tumbleweeds, and scraggly, prickly leafage and a big grin on his face. How he’s managed to carry it all as well as his phone is beyond Johnny, but he just greets the other wolf with a weak smile and tail wag and takes part of the load from him.

To his surprise, Changkyun helps out as well, puffing on his cigarette the whole time as they set up all the tinder on top of the body. Typically, the younger wolf would refuse to help them, not wanting to dirty his clothes or chip his nail polish with the wood and weeds, but he seems in a rush tonight, not minding the dust that lingers on his black turtleneck or the dirt under his nails.

Once the pile is complete, Johnny kicks and nudges a few more pieces of wood and dead weeds into place. He even takes a moment to gather some nearby stones, pushing them over to circle it all in hopes of at least slightly containing the fire. 

Satisfied with how it’s all situated, he turns to look at Yuta, who’s taking a drag from the cigarette Changkyun offered him, and clears his throat to get his attention. “Will you go grab the lighter fluid from the truck?”

Yuta blows out some smoke as he whines. “Why can’t _you_ do it? I’m the only one who’s been running around and picking stuff up all night, my legs are tired!”

The first response to pop into Johnny’s mind is somewhere along the lines of “who the fuck do you think dragged this thing over here?” and “why didn’t you just grab the lighter fluid when you got the logs from the truck?” 

He has to purse his lips to keep the snappy words in and draws in a deep breath through his nose in an attempt to calm himself. He just barely catches the glance Changkyun shoots him down the length of his cig, seeming amused at his exasperation but unwilling to spare him from the task of fetching the fluid from the truck.

Feeling defeated, he exhales in a heavy sigh and rolls his shoulders, trying to shrug away his annoyance. “Fine, I’ll get it. You two stay here and smoke or whatever.”

“Can do, boss,” Yuta grins, and the third or thirtieth time that night, Johnny is nearly overcome with the urge to smack him.

Still, he resists and goes on his way, lightly brushing shoulders with Yuta as he steps past him to go on and retrieve the fluid. The voices of his partners slowly fade, and by the time he reaches the truck, they’re nothing more than a distant murmur, a ghost of a conversation that’s just barely there.

A new wind rolls over the land about that time, its whispers and whistles further drowning out Yuta and Changkyun’s words. Johnny shivers at the desert’s cold breath lapping at his bare skin and hurries to open the passenger side door, hopping inside in hopes of escaping the chill. 

Unfortunately, the interior of the truck cab still cold from how high Changkyun was blasting the AC earlier, leaving Johnny to just grumble and tremble while digging through the glove compartment for the lighter fluid.

He finds the bottle buried under a load of stray papers, bills and napkins scribbled with lyrics and fast food receipts. He quickly pulls it out, not caring about the few sheets that follow and flutter down to his feet, littering the already trash-cluttered floorboard.

Kicking a paper off his shoe, he hops out and then hurries back to his partners just as quickly as he left, marching with purpose towards the soft glow of Changkyun’s lighter, following it like a beacon. His whole body feels tense with the urge to just get this over with as he brushes between both wolves on his way to the brush pile, cutting through their conversation and not minding the sharp looks they both flash him on the way.

Their gazes linger on his back, following his movements as he flicks the bottle open and tips it over top of the brush, dousing the dead grass and firewood and the corpse buried beneath it all with the foul-smelling liquid. He can even taste it, the smell sticking to the roof of his mouth even after the now empty bottle is closed and tossed to the side. The only good thing about its horrible scent is that it overwhelms the blood stench clinging to him.

He pauses, reminded of his shirt, and curls his nose at the dried blood stains, no longer that bright red but now a dark, sickly brown that nearly makes his stomach churn. He wrestles with the idea in his head for a moment before biting the bullet, clenching his jaw around a sigh. 

A frown on his face, he shrugs his jacket off and lets it drop to the dirt behind him. He makes just as quick work of his shirt, undoing the buttons with deft fingers before slipping it off his arms and tossing it over the top of the pile. He steps back to watch how the white material soaks up the lighter fluid like its thirsting for it and then finally turns his attention to the two wolves still staring at him.

“Lighter,” he orders simply, jutting his hand out to Changkyun expectantly. The younger blinks before fishing the zippo out of his pocket and handing it over, and as soon as Johnny has hold of it, he flicks it on, nearly flinching when the tiny flame sparks to life so close to his thumb he can feel its heat.

Cupping his free hand around the fire to protect it from the nighttime desert breeze, he turns back around to the brush pile, and just for a moment, he loses himself in the subtle wave of the orange flame. It genuinely looks alive, as though its staring back at him with one bright amber eye, mimicking his gaze like a small handheld mirror.

Its stare is hot, burning him without touching him, searing like a brand into his mind until he finally can’t take it any longer. He tosses the lighter into the brush without second thought, frantically, almost fearfully, and he leaps back when the fire bursts like a beast from its slumber.

Changkyun’s shocked protest of “my lighter!” and Yuta’s thoroughly amused cackle are both drowned out by the fire’s sudden roar. Once again, Johnny stunned silent and still, his golden eyes glowing with the fire lapping at the night sky. Its heat is unbearable, so intense that it feels like it’s consuming Johnny whole, like he’s staring into a supernova and it’s staring right back, threatening him.

It’s predatory.

His heart suddenly pounds in his chest, and he steps back between the other two wolves, feeling his legs give the slightest shake under the fire’s gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Yuta looking at him, and he quickly schools his expression, chasing away any sign of apprehension.

Eyes never leaving the fire raging before him, he snatches his jacket out of the dirt and then shrugs it on, shivering at the cold leather pressing against his skin. Yuta thankfully looks away then, following his gaze to the flame, but Johnny still doesn’t relax, muscles tight and tense.

For a while longer, the three silhouettes merely stand beneath the stars, their shadows stretching far as they watch the body's world burn to ash around it. They add extra logs and brush til the flames kiss the sky and lick the stars, til the smoke blots out the moon and the heat washes the cold chill from the air.

And then they leave it to burn alone.

By the time they enter the heart of the city once more, the morning sun is just beginning to color the sky with pink and orange hues. Yuta is cooing and fawning over the beauty of the sunlight peering through skyscrapers, but all his words fall on deaf ears, Johnny’s mind still buzzing with some sort of emotion he simply can’t describe.

It feels like he’s reaching a breaking point.

Whereas he was once so eager to get home and shower and sleep at least an hour before setting out for his new job, now he can’t even bring himself to smile when he finally pushes the door to the pack’s apartment open.

Yuta shoves past him and immediately runs off in the direction of the shower with a yell of “called it!” while Changkyun waits until he’s inside and then marches over to take his spot sprawled on one of the two couches, hitting the cushions with a grunt.

Chanyeol sits on the other couch, reclined back in the cushions with a bowl of cereal on his lap, bare feet propped up on the coffee table. He barely looks away from the television screen while mumbling a good morning, but then he does a double-take, pausing to look wide-eyed at Johnny.

“Wow, you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Johnny sighs while toeing his shoes off, putting one hand on the wall for balance. He feels like he may fall flat on his face at any second otherwise.

When he walks past the kitchen on his way to his room, Jinyoung greets him with a “good morning” of his own, but Johnny can’t even utter a response, just grunting back as he drags his iron-cast feet along. 

He can feel Jinyoung’s eyes on his back as he goes on, can feel the unspoken question of “what’s up with him?” hanging in the air, but he addresses neither, closing the door to his and Yuta’s shared room as soon as he’s inside.

The first thing he does is strip down to his underwear, desperate to rid himself of that terrible death stench, and then he all but collapses onto his bed and immediately wraps up in the warm, comforting sheets, sighing as the smell of cleanliness and home overtakes him. 

Face pressed into his pillow, he reaches blindly for one of the many plushies littering his bed and grabs the closest one, drawing it in as he rolls onto his side. He pulls the soft bear in close to his chest and curls around it, drawing his knees up and ducking his head to bury his nose into the cottony fur, inhaling the familiar lavender scent that’s faded over the years.

For the first time in the past 24 hours, a sense of complete calm overtakes him, and the tension in his muscles slowly uncoils. He practically melts, lying there clinging to his favorite toy like a child, feeling its fur against his bare skin and smelling its scent and holding it as close as humanly possible. He relaxes all the way to the tip of his tail, the furry appendage falling peacefully to the mattress behind him, curled around the curve of his rear and thigh.

It’s almost like time has paused, and for a little while, this sweet moment is his whole world. Just him, his bear, and the distant, muffled sound of the television in the living room. Nothing else, just a simple peace.

And then the door swings open, hitting the wall with a thunderous bang that completely shatters his entire universe. He shoots upright and spins to meet Yuta’s eyes, his startled heart pounding in his chest.

Yuta grins at him, dripping wet and naked save for the towel hanging around his hips. “Get up, we gotta go to work.”

With that, something new sparks to life inside of Johnny. The exhaustion is there, the uneasiness, the horrible weight in the pit of his stomach, but there’s something atop it all as well. Something foreign, something that’s creeping him closer and closer towards the unseeable edge.

A frustration, ugly and hot, licking at his insides like the fire they set mere hours before.

He pushes the bear from his lap and leaves it lying forgotten and neglected on the bed as he stands with a sigh. He immediately goes to his closet, throws on the first clothes he sees, and then turns to Yuta and mutters a simple, “Let’s get this over with.” 

And with that, he’s on his way out the door, leaving Yuta scrambling to get dressed and crying out desperately for him to wait up.

He doesn’t though. He goes on like he didn’t even hear him, adjusting his jacket as he pushes the door open and shuts it behind himself, walking on down the hallway to the awaiting elevator.

All he can think as he pushes the button and holds the door open for Yuta rushing after him is, “All this for some silly little lamb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't as long as the first and we don't get to see any johnyong interactions just yet, but i hope you still enjoy nonetheless ;;;; <333
> 
> twt: [longerassride](https://twitter.com/longerassride)  
> cc: [catsbyy](https://curiouscat.me/catsbyy)


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